We descended the stairs, and I spotted Ueda, one of the regulars, lounging on the sofa in the cafe area.
“Hey there, Holmes and Aoi!” The instant he saw us, Ueda waved with a big grin on his face.
“Welcome, Ueda. Did you come to see my father?”
Apparently Ueda was college friends with the manager, making him a Kyoto University alumnus as well. He works as a management consultant in Osaka, and developed an interest in antiques due to the Yagashira family’s influence. When he finds something that might be good, he comes to Kura to have it appraised.
“Uh huh. I bought his new book today and I wanna get it signed.”
Ueda took out a book from his bag titled Women’s Quarters. I instinctively leaned in. “Wow, is that the manager’s book? I keep asking him what kind of books he writes, but he always refuses to answer.”
I looked at the cover and got excited when I saw the author listed as “Takeshi Ijuin.”
“Your pen name is Takeshi Ijuin, huh? It’s very nice.”
The manager brought his hand to his forehead as if troubled. “Uh, Aoi, feel free to forget what you just saw.”
“Huh? Why?”
“This guy’s shy, Aoi,” said Ueda. “Here, I’ll even give it to you, so read it thoroughly.”
“Thank you, Ueda! I’m so happy.” I accepted the book and held it tightly to my chest.
The manager averted his gaze and said, “It’s extremely difficult to read, so I can’t recommend it.” His cheeks were faintly tinged with red. It was kind of cute.
“C’mon man, you’re a veteran author now. Hurry up and get used to it!” Ueda slumped his shoulders, exasperated, and the manager looked away.
“An insensitive Osakan man wouldn’t understand.”
“Pfft, I don’t wanna hear that from a guy who brags about being raised in Tokyo. You’ve got Kansai blood flowing through your veins, but you sold your soul to Tokyo.”
Right, Ueda had told me that the manager was born in Kyoto, but raised in Tokyo. The owner got divorced when the manager was still young, and he was too busy to raise a child by himself, so he sent his son to his relatives in Tokyo. The manager didn’t come back to Kyoto until he started university, and that’s why he usually speaks in standard Japanese. Maybe that’s why Holmes uses standard Japanese, too.
“I’ll make coffee,” said Holmes, heading towards the kitchenette in the back.
“Thanks, pal. There’s something I wanted you to take a look at too, when you’re done with the coffee.”
“Certainly. I had a feeling that was the case.” Holmes chuckled and went into the kitchenette.
“Saw right through me, huh? That’s Holmes for you.” Ueda shrugged and then looked at me with a grin. “Didja know, Aoi? It was me who nicknamed him ‘Holmes.’”
“Huh? Wasn’t it because his last name has the character for ‘home’ in it?”
“That’s what he tells other people, but the truth’s something else.”
“What do you mean?”
“It was back when he was in early primary school, I think? He came to my place to play and said he wanted to solve riddles.”
“Ahh yeah, young children like that kind of thing.” My relatives’ kids always want to do quizzes or play word games too. It never ends.
“I know, right? So, I gave him some problems, but he was a smart kid and solved ’em right away. No matter how many questions I gave him, he kept asking for more, and it got really annoying, so I went, ‘All right then, how many stairs does my staircase have?’ and he instantly answered ‘Fifteen.’ I was surprised and accused him of making up an answer, but he said, ‘I didn’t make it up. I know because I climbed them once.’ And then when I counted, there really were fifteen. Aoi, do you know how many stairs your house has?”
I was at a loss for words. Thinking about it, even though I go up and down those stairs every day...I don’t know how many steps there are.
“I-I don’t know.”
“Right? Don’t look so glum. It’s normal not to know. Anyway, when that happened, I thought ‘This kid is Holmes.’”
I tilted my head. “But why?”
The manager chuckled, saying, “That’s the kind of person Sherlock Holmes was made out to be. When he sees a staircase, his brain even observes the exact number of stairs it has.”
“I-Is that so? Wow.” I was impressed from the bottom of my heart.
“It’s something you have to be born with,” he continued. “If everyone is looking at the same thing, most people will overlook part of the information, but Kiyotaka takes everything in and processes it.”
“That’s why he can do appraisals, right? Is the owner like that too?”
“No, my father... It’s a bit different. He has the unique ability to determine authenticity.”
“And you’re hopeless at it,” Ueda piped in immediately.
The manager grinned snidely and said, “Well I’m sorry for not being able to help.”
“Nah, it’s fine,” Ueda replied, with a similarly snide grin.
As I was anxiously looking between the two of them, Holmes appeared, accompanied by the scent of coffee.
“I’m glad you’re getting along, but you’re making Aoi uncomfortable.”
There were four porcelain coffee cups, one of which was café au lait. That one was mine.
“Thank you.”
It was delicious, as usual. I really love Holmes’s café au lait.
“Thanks. So, this is what I wanted you to look at.” Ueda gulped down his coffee and hurriedly took a box out of a paper bag. “One of our clients, their director had this in his house. Caught my eye, so I borrowed it to show you.”
“Understood. Allow me to examine it.” Holmes donned his white gloves again and gently opened the box. Inside was a small vase made of white porcelain with a blue pattern.
“...Well then.”
“It’s blue and white pottery, right? From the Yuan dynasty?”
“This is...quite the coincidence.” Holmes smiled in amusement and glanced at me. “What do you think, Aoi?”
“Huh?” Bewildered by the sudden question, I looked at the vase. This is the same type as the one I just saw upstairs, right? I gulped and took a closer look. If it’s worth the same as the one upstairs... No, this blue wasn’t as beautiful. The one I’d seen before was a very beautiful cobalt blue, but this one was obviously just “blue.” And what’s more, the pattern—the one upstairs was extremely elaborate, drawn as though there were nerves reaching all the way to the pointed tips of the leaves. This one didn’t have the same tension. The same went for the shape: the curve around the upper brim was a bit concerning.
I could tell that this vase was trying to imitate the other one, but there was no hiding its faults. The one upstairs had a mysterious, overwhelming something to it. Compared to that, I didn’t feel anything from looking at this one. To be honest, it was really shabby.
“Umm, I think it’s a fake,” I mumbled, and Holmes nodded in response.
“Correct.”
Ueda’s eyes opened wide. “Whoa now, does Aoi have an eye for this too?”
“Indeed. Aoi has good eyesight, and most importantly, as long as she’s seen the genuine article beforehand, she can identify forgeries well.” Holmes looked towards me as though seeking my agreement.
“Y-Yes, just a little while ago, he showed me one that’s going to be used in an exhibition.”
That’s why it felt so different. If I’d only seen the one that Ueda brought, then I might’ve thought it was amazing.
“My grandfather always said, ‘Try to only look at genuine articles whenever possible.’ That way, when you see a fake, you’ll sense its low quality.”
I see; I can totally relate.
“Everyone is blessed with the opportunity to see the real thing, because wonderful works of art are always on display at museums and galleries. I want people to make use of those facilities. It feels like such a waste that they pass up the chance to see beautiful works,” Holmes sighed.
Ueda laughed. “What are you, a secret agent?”
“I might be.”
Everyone giggled at Holmes’s shameless admission.
“But man, this is a fake? Well, I guess Yuan blue and whites aren’t something you see every day. Shouldn’t have gotten the guy’s hopes up.” Ueda looked disappointed as he put the box with the vase back into the paper bag.
“It’s not a bad piece, though.”
“How much, then?”
“About fifty thousand, perhaps. How much did he pay for it?”
“Don’t ask,” Ueda said, slumping his shoulders. I felt my expression stiffen too, assuming that the price must’ve been missing a digit or two.
“As long as he likes it enough to keep it in his collection, that’s what matters most. In cases like this, the value is up to the owner to decide.” Holmes smiled merrily, then looked at the shop’s grandfather clock. “Ah, it’s time. I’ll be leaving now, Dad.”
“All right.” The manager nodded, then looked at me. “Oh right, why don’t you go with him, Aoi? You might learn something.”
I looked back at him blankly. “Um, where is he going?”
“I’m going to Ninna Temple. It’s the best time to see the cherry blossoms. Since my father suggested it, shall we go together?” Holmes answered with a smile.
I nodded eagerly. “Yes!”